A Visit with Granny

“Did you bring the stuff?” Old Lady Walters asked him the minute he swung his leg through the fire escape window and entered the room.

He had to be nuts to be keep doing this, Ricky Davis thought as he pulled his other leg over the sill and then closed the window behind him. His social life was really pathetic if he had to do stuff like this.

Nevertheless, he patted the inside pocket of his parka. “It’s all right here,” he told Walters, as he pulled out the Glad sandwich bag stuffed with the Viagra pills he had filched out of the medicine cabinet back home.

“This ought to be enough to rouse a dead elephant,” he told her as he handed the pills over to her.

“Thanks, sonny,” Walters said, holding up the packet to examine it in the moonlight, and scratching the white whiskers that grew from her chin. “You’re right, this ought to be enough to perk up every one of those limp-dicked old coots around here.”

Ricky guessed there were going to be quite a few randy geezers running around the Happy Valley Nursing Home tonight.

Old Lady Walters took out a couple of pills and downed them herself. Dry. She gave Ricky a smug grin as she smacked her lips.

“What are you doing?” Ricky gasped.

“Ain’t you been reading the papers, boy? These pills work for us women too, you know. Now get going. Why don’t you go say hello to your grandmother over there, for God’s sake?” Old Lady Walters then turned and walked out into the corridor, where she was immediately surrounded by a horde of grasping senior citizens, eager to receive the benediction Walters could bestow upon them from the sandwich bag Ricky had given her.

Meanwhile Ricky decided to take her advice. He turned around at looked at the figure reclining on the bed. He saw that her eyes were open. “Hello, Granny,” he said.

“Is that you, Benny?” she asked, stretching out her arms to receive him. She was thinking that he was Gramps again. Well, why wouldn’t she? He could tell from the old photographs that he was the spitting image of Gramps back when Gramps was in the prime of his life. The codger must not have had a recessive gene in his whole body. Plus, Granny’s mind was so far gone now that she probably didn’t even know she had a grandson any more. No wonder she thought he was Gramps.

As usual, Ricky decided to play along with Granny’s delusion. Granny deserved a little happiness in her final days, a little reprieve from the tedium of this hellhole. He walked over to her and let her enfold him in her arms.

“Oh, Benny, where have you been?” she whispered, placing his hand inside her nightgown, upon her sweetly wrinkled breast. “Why have you stayed away so long?”

Her tongue found his mouth as she unzipped him and tugged down his pants and underwear. He had to be nuts to be doing this, Ricky Davis thought as he let her massage his penis. His social life was really pathetic if he had to do stuff like this.

Then she performed the maneuver. Her ancient hand grasped his balls and twisted them in that special way that only Granny could do. As always, Ricky found himself instantly erect, with the biggest hard-on of his life (if you didn’t count the other seven times Granny had played her special brand of pocket pool with his testicles).

Gramps had been a lucky guy, Ricky mused. A very lucky guy. He found himself secretly envying the old coot, may he forever rest in peace.

But Granny had fallen asleep, and Ricky heard a familiar voice behind him.

“I see she’s got you all primed for me again. It’s so nice of you to visit your Granny so often, Ricky. You’re such a devoted grandson. Now, have you got any sugar left for the rest of us girls?”

In the dim light of the bedroom, Thelma Johnson looked like the pictures of Jayne Mansfield Ricky had seen in that old issue of Life magazine. It was the blond wig of course. Thelma had twenty-year-old hair sitting atop her eighty-year-old scalp. And the implants. Some greedy plastic surgeon had recently violated an entire cannon of professional ethics to install a set of watermelon-sized tits on the old girl. What the hell, a buck was a buck, Ricky supposed. And he knew the old girl was loaded.

He looked down at his granny, who was now snoring peacefully away. He would leave it to one of the Viagra-crazed geezers to service her later. He really didn’t believe in incest anyway.

It always made him feel guilty.

He got off the bed and beckoned to Thelma Johnson. He was still hard as a rock, as he always was for about an hour after Granny performed the maneuver on him. He let Thelma remove his shirt and run her tongue over his stomach. It was the silicon implants, he knew. He couldn’t resist the implants.

He had to be nuts to be doing this, Ricky Davis thought as he ripped off Thelma’s nightgown. His social life was really pathetic if he had to do stuff like this.

Thelma brandished the straps she had removed from Henry Foster’s straitjacket, and, as usual, he let her secure his hands to the hook on Old Lady Walter’s traction device. He was now standing stark naked, practically on tiptoes, his hands tied above his head, and his penis raised in a quasi-Nazi salute, thanks to Granny’s ministrations.

His penis grew an extra inch as Thelma removed the dentures from her mouth, revealing sensuous, toothless gums that would have been the envy of Gabby Hayes. Those sweet gums soon surrounded his manhood, Thelma’s soft mouth feeling like the most active cunt in the universe as she sucked and sucked him like a famished toothless baby at its mother’s breast.

If other guys could only know the joys offered by the toothless, Ricky thought, as he exploded violently in Thelma’s mouth. As usual after Granny’s maneuver, his prick remained firm and ready for action even after he came.

He heard the clatter in the hallway and knew what was coming next.

Sophie Goldstein rounded the corner, her strong hands gripping the aluminum bars of her walker as she inched her way toward Tim. Her blue hair stood in a bouffant not unlike that of the bride of Frankenstein in the old Boris Karloff movie. She looked approvingly at Ricky’s member, still risen in full salute, and smacked her lips.

“Well, I see you’ve got him fluffed for me again, Thelma,” she said, gripping Ricky’s throbbing organ. “Really nice job this time too.”

She opened her robe and tore off her colostomy bag. “Now you’re going to feel what is like to be inside a woman, Ricky. Really inside,” she whispered as she impaled herself on Ricky’s organ.

Ricky could feel the wetness of the insides of Sophie’s body, the soft inner lining of her intestine as his penis slid along it. It was so much more intimate than being in a cunt, he thought. When you were in a cunt, you were really still left outside the woman’s body, in a tunnel maybe, but outside nevertheless. With Sophie, he knew what it was like to be truly within a woman, to roam among her internal organs, to feel the true squishiness of her inner depths, rather than the antiseptic, albeit moist walls of a cunt designed only to guide you to the proper place to make your nightly deposit, but never to allow you true entrance.

You could only get something like this at the Happy Valley Nursing Home.

Ricky began to come, just thinking about where he was. He came and came and came again as Sophie milked him with the pulsing walls of her intestines and the practiced muscles of her talented abdomen, which alternately squeezed and released his prick as it thrust into the secret depths of her bowels.

Then he heard it, even as Sophie expelled his throbbing member from her colostomy opening. Someone was whistling the theme from the old French movie A Man and a Woman and prancing down the hallway.

There was only one resident in the Happy Valley Nursing Home who both whistled and pranced on a daily basis, Ricky thought. That faggot Myron Washington.

Washington executed a perfect ballet pirouette as he leapt into Granny’s room. His ten inch member was already jutting toward the ceiling, whether from the early effects of the Viagra or simply because he was glad to see Ricky, Ricky could not say.

Ricky’s wrists strained against his restraints as Washington executed a delightful pas de basque and landed himself in position behind Ricky’s ass.

He had to be nuts to keep coming here, Ricky thought as Sophie and Thelma spread his buttocks apart to provide old man Washington easier access. His social life must be truly pathetic if he had to do stuff like this.